Calder’s eyes flickered in the darkness as he pressed his palms into the edge of the wrestling mat, his shirt half-untucked, tie askew. His jaw tensed, breath coming sharp and shallow, as he forced himself to meet Havyn’s gaze. She was already there, back braced against the storage rack, strong arms folded as if holding herself together. In the half-light, sweat-damp hair curled against her jaw, and her athletic tank clung to the lines of her chest and shoulders—every inch humming with restrained fury.

“Why’d you walk away from me?” Her voice was low, shaking in a way he’d never heard, fury and hurt tangling in her throat. Calder’s face collapsed, a fissure of guilt cracking his careful mask.

“I thought—” he started, but she cut him off, shoving her fists into her pockets, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“You thought I’d run, too?” Her eyes glinted, daring him. She stepped closer, heat radiating from her skin. The air between them buzzed.

He reached for her, hesitation trembling in his fingertips, but she only studied him—every microexpression, every ragged breath. For a second, she seemed about to bolt, but then she pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart hammer.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her words trembling with need. His hands found her hips, thumbs stroking the rough waistband of her sweats. When their mouths finally met, it wasn’t gentle. It was heat and accusation and forgiveness, all tangled—the kiss devouring, teeth clashing, lips bruised. Her fingers wove into his hair, dragging him closer, anchoring herself. He pressed her against the wall, the metal cool through her shirt.

Clothes fell away with frantic urgency—her tank hiking up, his shirt yanked over his head, the snap of his belt echoing through the storage room. She laughed, a desperate, choked sound, and he swallowed it, wrapping his arms around her, anchoring himself in her strength.

His breath came ragged as he kissed the bruised hollow of her throat, fingers trembling as they slid over her bare waist, memorizing every scar and muscle, every shiver. She hooked her knee around his hip, dragging him closer, nails digging into his back, trembling with hunger she could no longer hide.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Calder breathed against her ear, voice ruined, confession ripped from his chest. She bit her lip, eyes glassy, and for a moment, all she could do was stare—seeing him, wanting him, afraid of what she’d become in this burning need.

They moved together, frantic and unguarded—his hand cupping her face, her body arching beneath him, the world shrinking to the wild pulse of their skin on skin. Their need was tangled with anger, fear, jealousy—every unspoken word pressed between them, every boundary left in tatters.

Later, tangled in each other, skin fever-warm and breathless, Calder traced a trembling line down her arm, speaking softly. “This wasn’t pretend.”

She pressed her forehead to his, eyes raw. “It never was.”

In the silence that followed, the harsh ring of Calder’s phone shattered the moment. He scrambled, half-dressed, just as a cold voice crackled through the line: “This is the administration. We need both of you in the principal’s office. Immediately.”

Havyn’s eyes widened—dread and adrenaline sparking. Calder’s throat tightened as the truth crashed over them; everything had changed.

To be continued...